30. Milana
MILANA
I cling to him, to his body which I found intoxicating from the first time I got to touch him, holding on to him for dear life on the motorcycle ride to the yacht. He lifts me up so I can cup his face and we kiss as he walks me to his bedroom.
I want him, every part of him. Why couldn’t he have been an asshole? Why must I crave him to touch me, to need me in turn? All these questions circle in my mind, but I don’t look beyond the lust and the need for release.
“Just make me come once,” I murmur, between kisses, as his legs hit the foot of the bed and he lowers me gently.
“Just once, princess? I have bigger plans than that.”
There’s that gentle teasing tone I’ve come to love, because this man knows exactly how to ease the tension in me. He’s smiling as he nudges me to scoot up and follows on all fours to lean over me.
It’s dark, and as he reaches over to switch on the bedside lamp, I stop him. “No, make me come first. Please.”
I hate the desperation in my voice, but this is only going to go that far, and I need him, just once.
“You haven’t been taken care of in a long while, have you?” he murmurs as he leans back to search my face in the dark, leaving the lights off.
“No.” Being around him has been a hormonal rush I didn’t expect.
His hand is on my knee, pressing me open.
“Well, princess. That’ll never happen again,” he says as he settles between my thighs, his erection aligning with my sex as he rolls into me with an agonizingly slow but intentional move.
When he does it again, I gasp, because he knows just where to put the pressure.
“Luca.” I slide my fingers into his hair, underneath his shirt, his skin warm, ridged, the beginning of his happy trail a tickle of hair against my fingertips.
He dips his head to kiss my hairline, my temple, then lower to my neck, and I arch into him as his hand slips underneath my sweater, undoing my jeans button and lowering the zipper before his fingertips trail along the elastic of my panties.
His hand curves over my hip and he hauls me against him with a grunt, letting his cock drive against me.
“Oh my God,” I whimper.
“I want to fuck you so badly, princess. I’ve never— Fuck. I don’t want to rush.” His mouth crushes mine, and our open messy kisses are so arousing, so intense, if he carries on like this, I’ll come out of nowhere.
He breaks away. “Sit up,” he breathes, leaning back on his knees.
As soon as I’m up, he peels off my sweater, but he goes at it so slowly, the soft fabric glides over my heated skin in a soft caress.
It’s intentional. It’s erotic. And I can see the type of lover my husband is—unrushed, focused, every move aimed at upping my pleasure.
I can play this game. Instead of dropping back to lie down, I slide my hands over his thighs and underneath his shirt.
“Take it off,” I tell him, and as he stretches to peel off his T-shirt, I palm his erection where it’s battling for space in his jeans. I pop the button and lower the zipper, feeling his gaze on me as he lets me explore. I tug his briefs down and free his cock, warm and silky against my hand.
I caress his shaft, feeling every piercing, our breathing becoming more haggard because this is—he is–so fucking hot.
“This is a lot. Did it hurt?” I ask as I circle my thumb around the tip of his cock, gliding over the swollen flesh and finding the ball on one end of his Prince Albert piercing.
“No. Not as much as you’d imagine.”
He raises on his knees and pushes down his jeans to give me full access and like this…oh my God. He is big. The length daunting. The girth intimidating for someone who hasn’t—
“Do you ever remove them?” I whisper, trying to find my words as I run my hand up the ridge formed by his Jacob’s Ladder piercing. “During, I mean—” I break off, concern bubbling up from nowhere. This might be a very bad idea.
“Only if it doesn’t work out. We go slow and figure out if you like it. I’m not here to hurt you, Milana,” he says as he cups my face with both hands. “It’s intended for pleasure. Your pleasure.” His lips are on mine again, and I sink back. “Let me take care of you. You need to be wet.”
“I am wet,” I breathe into his mouth. Wetter than I’ve probably ever been before.
“I’ll be the judge of that,” he teases as he lowers himself to my side to rest on his elbow. A fingertip traces my collarbone, the cup of my bra, lower to my jeans to open them. “Is this good?” he asks as he dips a finger underneath my panties’ elastic band.
“It’s more than good,” I whisper, lifting my hips so he can pull off my jeans and fling them to the side.
Luca chuckles but doesn’t stop turning delicious arousing circles over my skin with a fingertip, around my navel, my sides, slowly inching closer to my sex.
I, in turn, have the pleasure of exploring his chest, feeling the ridges of his stomach, gliding my hands over to his arm and his biceps, the bulk of his shoulders.
“Tell me I’m going to find a little treasure here,” he murmurs as he dips down to kiss me again, his fingers at last circling over my mound.
I’m widening my legs even more, so ready, but he is torturing me with the slow sweep of his fingers down my slit, barely touching me. And then, he splits his fingers to caress both sides of my sex, slowly, up and down, not touching my clit, but waiting for my answer.
“Luca,” I moan as I ride into his touch. “Touch me already and find out.” And hate what you find, because you will hate it.
He doesn’t dip into my panties; he just teases me over the fabric, slowly homing in on a desperate target. I inhale sharply when he finally puts pressure on my clit, finding my piercing. He’s kissing me even deeper as he hums his approval.
“Fucking sexiest thing,” he whispers as he settles into a delicate rhythm, rubbing me into bliss, and I cling to him, my fingers raked into his hair. “Come for me like this,” he whispers. “Let’s see if you can.”
He is rocking into my leg, his cock right there, the tip wet and sliding with ease.
I’ve closed my eyes, but in my mind’s eye, I see him guiding me, his lips now lowering to my breasts, tugging with his teeth at my bra until he has access to my nipple.
He first licks and then sucks and it’s all too much.
It’s been too long, he’s too intense, and the wave is there, rushing to shore and nothing is going to stop it.
He must feel it coming because he applies more pressure.
My body obeys the quiet command, and I come for him.
It’s sweet and intense and I immediately want more, craving the satisfaction of the crashing release that only having him inside me can bring.
As if he senses this, he pulls my panties to the side and slides two fingers into me, curling them against my g-spot, fucking me hard.
“So fucking wet. Come some more for me, princess. I want to lick you like a melting fucking ice lolly. Be drenched for me. Give me all your sweetness.”
My legs are trembling. I’m making a mess, drenching his hand as I come some more.
“Luca,” I murmur between kisses, then reach for his hand to make him stop. “Too much.”
He holds still but doesn’t extract his fingers. Instead, he smiles against my mouth.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, then kisses me as I calm down, slowly letting go. “I want to see you now, princess. See your pretty underwear. Enjoy your glow. Stare into your eyes to see where you’re at as we try this out for size.”
“God, Luca.” This is going to be so unfair. He wants to see and touch and taste everything. Only the blind could miss it. “The size might be an issue,” I murmur, skirting the reality that awaits us both.
“I’ve got you,” he murmurs. “We’ll take it slow.”
I reluctantly let him go. I’ve run out of choices. He is my last resort. Let the truth out and then let him punish me so we get it over and done with.